Bulletproof Bodyguard. Kay Sidey Thomas
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“I called and called but you didn’t come.” Harris continued to weep and hiccup. Marcus’s heart clenched. No matter what, he’d made the right decision coming downstairs.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I didn’t hear you. I’m here now. Let’s get you a drink.”
“Want a—a—…ple jui—ce.”
“Then that’s what we’ll get.”
Marcus heard them start down the hallway and realized he’d been blatantly eavesdropping again. He headed to the refrigerator and was pulling out the apple juice when Cally came through the doorway carrying Harris.
She stopped.
“Your hands are full,” he said in explanation to her raised eyebrows. “Where’s a cup?”
She nodded toward the dish-drainer. “He likes the one with the purple leopard spots.”
“All right.” He felt Cally’s eyes on him as he filled the brightly colored cup and handed it to Harris.
“Thh—ank you.” He hiccupped.
“You’re welcome. Are you okay, big guy?”
Harris nodded, sniffed and stared at Marcus as he drank his juice. Cally swayed back and forth in the timeless manner of women with babies in their arms. Her oversize terrycloth robe fell to her ankles and her hair was a mass of curls around her shoulders. She shouldn’t have been attractive to him with her blue-eyed girl-next-door looks. He’d always gone for slightly exotic-looking women in his past, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her standing there in the kitchen.
“I don’t know how to apologize for all this. We don’t usually treat guests quite so shabbily.”
“It’s no problem. I’m just glad we saved Harris from those bears.” He smiled at the kid, glad to have something else to focus on.
“Well, you’re certainly being a good sport. Harris and I appreciate it.”
At the mention of his name, the boy raised his head. “Rock Harris sleep.”
Cally smiled. “All right, baby, we’ll rock.” She and the boy settled into the upholstered rocker by the fireplace. “Want some coffee? I just made some decaf.” She nodded toward the counter.
He started to refuse, then looked at the woman rocking her child in the darkened room. Light from the full moon shone on her curly hair and Harris’s face. They looked so clean and…normal was the word that popped into his mind.
Marcus hadn’t experienced anything related to normal or clean in what seemed like forever. Even the people he guarded at the casino generally needed his services because they weren’t the most upstanding of characters. There was usually a reason someone would want to harm them.
His undercover work placed him with the underbelly of society. He didn’t want to think about how that was changing him. He’d been under too long—losing touch with the things that reminded him who he really was.
He nodded. “Sure, why not?” He didn’t want to leave Cally, her son or their small slice of normalcy just yet, and he felt a ridiculous spurt of pleasure that he had an excuse to stay longer.
“Cups are in the cabinet by the stove. Shortbread cookies are in the blue canister.”
“You want anything?” he asked.
“Refill my cup, if you don’t mind, and I’ll be fine. It’s there by the sink.”
Cally rocked and hummed tunelessly while he located the cookies and put some on a plate. Her voice was soothing and he found himself sinking into it like the boy draped across her chest.
He leaned over to set the cup of coffee by her rocker and caught the lush scent of her hair—exotic and spicy. It was a punch to his gut and another kick to his long-dormant libido that had his head spinning.
She looked awfully angelic to smell so erotic. Not at all what he’d expected from watching her rock the boy.
Harris was almost asleep. Feeling like an awkward teenager who has suddenly found an empty seat next to the head cheerleader, Marcus sat on the loveseat.
“I am so sor….”
He interrupted. “Please don’t apologize again. It’s all right.”
“He’s been having these nightmares for over a month. I can’t figure out where they came from. Goldilocks is the closest we’ve come to a scary bear story.”
“It’s amazing how their minds work.”
“Do you have children?”
“Nope, never been married.”
“Oh, they’re quite an adventure. As you can tell from the evening you’ve had.” He could tell she was smiling in the darkness.
“It must be a challenge, raising one by yourself?”
She didn’t answer right away.
“Yes…It’s been difficult…and wonderful at the same time.”
“How old was Harris when his father died?”
As soon as the words were out, Marcus wished them back. This wasn’t what he wanted to be talking about. It was only going to make things more difficult.
“He hadn’t been born. We didn’t even know I was pregnant.”
Marcus listened intently, still marveling at the direction of their conversation. She stopped speaking for a moment, caught up in the memories, he supposed.
“I think the hardest part has been realizing all the things that his father will never see. Harris’s first steps, his first haircut, his first little-league game, high school…”
The sadness in her voice didn’t reflect self-pity. Unexpectedly, Marcus felt a longing well up inside for something besides the sexual attraction that was coming to life here. He couldn’t name it—contentment, maybe. Whatever it was, the absence was worrisome.
“We’d been trying for a year to have a baby. I think that’s why it bothers me so much…that he never knew.”
Her voice wavered and she inhaled sharply. “Jamie and I had a lot of dreams. The most important one came true when Harris was born. It amazes me sometimes that after all that’s happened—life can still be good.”
Marcus listened to the creaking of the chair as she rocked on in silence. He heard Harris’s breathing change as the child drifted off to sleep and found himself identifying with Jamie Burnett. A man who had missed out on his dreams.
Sometimes—when he allowed himself to think about it—Marcus felt that he was missing out on life because he was dead inside.
Could I change? Sitting with this woman in the moonlight, he wanted to believe that it wasn’t too late for him.
Cally interrupted his thoughts, “Mr. North, I can’t believe I just told you all that. It’s got to be more than you ever wanted to know. You are very easy to talk to.”
He smiled grimly. Listening. It’s what he was good at.
“So…what about you? Have you always been a bodyguard?
He hesitated. Now the deception would have to start. “No, not always.” He knew he was being evasive, but found himself not wanting to lie to her.
“I’ve done a little of everything. But I like security work the best.”
She nodded and didn’t push. “So do you like working at the casino?”
“Oh, I’m enjoying it. The people are interesting. It’s good pay. I like the hours.”
“What time will you be going to work in the mornings?”
“It’ll